


Lost

by yet_intrepid



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Joly was new in Paris and he was lost.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

Joly was new in Paris and he was lost.

He had taken the precaution of setting out for the medical school an hour before he needed to be there for the first time to fill out the final paperwork, but three-quarters of that hour had slipped away in endless turnings, endless bends in tiny streets, endless nervousness and fretting. He now knew neither where to find the medical school, nor where to find his flat, nor where to find himself on the map he carried. He had tried asking directions from two different shopkeepers that he’d passed, but the first had been useless and the second, hearing his southern accent, rude.

Joly was new in Paris and very alone.

Why, he wondered, had he not spoken to his family’s friend Combeferre back in Lyon and asked if they could go to the medical school together? They were both attending, he knew that much, but he had not a clue when Combeferre had come to Paris nor where he lived. A friend in the city was comforting in theory, but far less so in practice when you could not find them.

Joly reached an intersection and turned left, not because he had any notion that it led towards the medical school but rather because it was the larger of the two streets and might lead to one which was marked on his map. As he wandered down it, hurrying because he hated to be late but holding himself back because he might be going in the wrong direction and getting more lost than ever, he noticed that among the buildings on this street were more cafés than small shops as in the previous area. Cafés, he reasoned, would have students, and students would know both where the medical school was and what it was like to be lost in Paris for the first time.

So he resolved to enter one, but his heart beat fast and he wondered who he would have to speak to, and whether they too would mock his accent, wondered so many things in the span of a moment—and then he heard a voice.

A cheerful voice, a friendly one, the sort of voice he wanted at once to run to.

“Hello there, friend! Looking a little lost, I think—is it the school of medicine or the school of law to which I may escort you today?”

The man was bald, smiling, his clothes a little ragged but bright. As Joly crossed to him, he bowed.

“Lesgle of Meaux. I hope you are searching the medical school; I make a point of staying away from that other most estimable place of education. Though company would not be unwelcome when I am obliged to present myself later today, still I hope to delay that unhappy hour as long as possible.”

“You’re in luck,” said Joly.

And Lesgle threw back his head and laughed. “Fortune has granted me a rare smile! This is far from her wont; I am the favorite victim of her evil whims. But come, the medical school then. Let me deal with my tab and I will accompany you.”

“I will deal with your tab,” Joly said. “You are delivering me from immense difficulty, so it is the least I can do.”

Lesgle stated the amount, which was reasonable, and Joly found the coins in his pocket.

“Thank you,” Lesgle said. “In fact, I have been running on credit at this café for a month now thanks to the fact that I was obliged to pay for repairs to three neighbors’ windows—it is a long story—so I am sure the owner will be pleased to see some coin.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Joly. He held out his map. “Now, where are we?”

Lesgle waved his hand over it. “Par i—ci.” His finger landed, but he was grinning up expectantly at Joly, as though waiting for something to be understood.

Joly blinked twice. Then a matching grin spread across his own face and he mimicked Lesgle’s actions. “Paris—” motioning to the map at large—“par ici.” He pinpointed the street Lesgle had shown him. “Just around here.”

Lesgle nodded proudly. “And we head this direction.”

Laughing together, they set off.

Not ten minutes later, Joly stopped and pointed at a street sign. “Look,” he said, “Rue de l’École de Médecine.”

“That’s a good sign,” said Lesgle, and they both burst into fits of laughter again, Joly’s nearly a giggle.

When they reached the medical school, Joly hesitated. “You said you wished to delay your appointment with the law school,” he said, “and that you’d not object to company. So if you wait for me while I deal with my registration here, I will come with you to the law school.”

Lesgle seized Joly’s hand. “You are delivering me from an immense difficulty,” he said, his indomitable grin firmly in place.

Joly squeezed his hand in return. He was no longer lost in Paris, and more importantly, no longer alone.


End file.
